When the villain is the fairest of them all
by Stardust.Snowflakes.Ashes
Summary: ...it takes a little more than being Prince Charming. Includes 'How to turn the external internal without changing her appearance' Written by August Sader. Distributed by Efefdotnet. Professor Sader's writing everybody's fairytale, it seems. Series of Oneshots about the love lives of Nevers and Evers. Couples overload!
1. Foreword

**When the villain is the fairest of them all, it takes a little more than being Prince Charming  
**

Includes 'How to turn the external internal without changing her appearance!' Written by August Sader. Distributed by Efefdotnet.

Professor Sader's writing everybody's fairytale, it seems.

Series of Oneshots regarding the love lives of Nevers and Evers.

"REAL" Author, Stardust. Snowflakes. Ashes

**.**

_TITLE PAGE_

_Of the_

Unofficial

_**W**__hen The Villain is The Fairest of Them Al_**_l_**

_Includes_ Manual of Maniacal Mages: What Nevermore doesn't have, _the _Dos and Don'ts of Maintaining a Perfect Relationship with your girl fiend_,_

Why Men Love Witches_, _Always hit on the henchman_, _Dating Enchantresses to Royalties: Women are women! _and _Act Like a Princess, Think Like a Witch

_wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww_

_COMPILED and WRITTEN by_

**AUGUST SADER  
**

_Professor at the School for Good and Evil_

_Teaches History of Villainy and Heroism_

_wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww_

_EDITED by_

**Stardust. Snowflakes. Ashes**

_Graduate of The School Of Evil, Master's Decree of Excellence: Henchmen_

_Whereabouts are unknown: Adept at Faking Death_

_wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww_

_Based on the book by_

**SOMAN CHAINANI  
**

_Graduate of Harvard University and of Columbia University's MFA Film Program  
_

_Won awards_

_Great guy_

_Tennis player_

**.**

,.,.,

Copyright 2014 by Efefdotnet, Soman Chainani, and the person with the least claims, Me (and Prof Sader, who is technically the property of Soman Chainani)

All rights reserved.

Printed in table, hot in the summer.

First Edition.

The text of this book is composed in Your Mother's Girdle with the display set in A Skeever's Hide. Composition by August Sader. Book design by SSA.

,.,.,

**TABLE OF CONTENTS**

**;;,;;,;;,;;.****;;,;;,;;,;;**

FOREWORD, The

_…Welcome, O Single One!_

_…Meeting your match_

_…Your tale begins_

WOOING, The

_…Serenade_

___…_Walk in the Woods  


_…Flowers_

_…Shampoo_

_…Cooking_

_…Pets_

_…Sports_

_…Opening a door for her_

_…Spells_

_…Why leeks are better than sweets_

IMPRESSING HER

_…Magic_

_…Charms: In both senses_

_…Chocolates_

_(CHAPTER TBA)_

_(CHAPTER TBA)_

_(CHAPTER TBA)_

_(CHAPTER TBA)_

_(CHAPTER TBA)_

**EXTRA CHAPTER:**

**Villains only**

**In the event that you fail to woo your witch,**

**And ONLY in said situation,**

**Read this**

WHO SAYS WE NEVER GET THE GIRLS?

_…Back-up Plan_

_…Bad enough for her_

_…Good girls go bad_

_…Just the girl_

_…Heels over head_

_…Even bad wolves can be good_

_…Girl all the bad guys want_

_…I love her half to death…_

_…but she's killing me._

_(More-to-come)_

******;;,;;,;;,;;.****;;,;;,;;,;;**

**FOREWORD**

******"","",""**

**TBA will be updated. Enjoy! Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Prof Sader doesn't, either. Everything belongs to Soman Chainani. This fanfiction was by no means written to affront, as it is for humour purposes.**

**If you notice that most of the chapters are **_villain-specific_**, well, it's just probably because I'm too biased LOL HORT IS THE KING - Fave character! XD It wouldn't be a surprise if **_he and Sophie'll show up again in the next few chapters, as well as Teddy and Aggie_**: They're my OTPs! So they'll pretty much be **_recurrent_ **here. Anyway, the contents of this fanfiction are limited to what little I know of the book: I only read the first, and I'm waiting for all the malls (BELIEVE ME, I TRIED EVERYWHERE) to restock** **A World Without Princes, and, frankly, if I can't get my hands on it before school starts, I might just lose it. JK, JK.**

**You're also wondering why it's **_all hetero**?**_

**Because I don't sense a spark between any characters of the same gender (perhaps excluding our two protagonists, Sophie and Agatha) and that I don't want to spoil my 'Straight Characters are Straight' Rule. Also, I'm quite not fond of shipping characters of the same biological sex. It's just who I am.**

**What else, what else.**

**Ooooh, right, is it okay if I post this on Wattpad, too? I dunno if it's even legal or anything, but if the punishment means having to give up this fanfic, I wouldn't take the risk.  
**

**So how did I come up with this idea in the first place?**

**I was scouring all of the city's malls for bookstores, scouting for A World of Princes (I mention this book too much for it to be normal, hehe) when I found something else. There, sitting on the top of the bookshelf, leaning suggestively to one side, was a book. Not just any book; its cover shone in the fluorescent light, and as I basked on its beauty and marvelled on its surreal sheen, I read the title. **_Always Hit on the Wingman: And 9 other_ **something something. So I was like, **_"Oh, cool, I should consider being a wingman. Why hadn't I thought of that before? The matchmaker's always hotter than the wooer in the movies!"_ **And I thought, **_"Whoa, this'd be totally wicked if the scenes I constructed in my head happened in SGE. Wait..."_ **And BOOM! Here I am!**_  
_

**The experience with the School for Good and Evil was different, really: It was more intense. Like-**

**I may have bored you already. Know what, skip this and get on with it.**

**UPDATE:**

**Like *!#$!#&*!#($! Hell. Sweet Layton on a stick. I !#$&!*$(#$**

**W**

**O**

**R**

**L**

**D**

**W**

**I**

**T**

**H**

**O**

**U**

**T**

**P**

**R**

**I**

**N**

**C**

**E**

**S**

**I'M FREAKING THE FLYING FLICK OUT THE COVER IS A MASTERPIECE OKAY NO MERE MORTAL SHALL TOUCH SUCH MAJESTRY IT'S MYSTICALLY THERE OH GOD IT'S PERFECT AND FLAWLESS**

**SO I—AHEM. So, after weeks of combing every varied lock of fluffy bouncy straight curly dead greasy hair—hell I even scrubbed the baldest most naked part of the head so roughly that I nearly scraped off the nonexistent metaphorical city's scalp—of my town—and a few nearby cities to boot—after everything, waiting by the window sill at six in the morning staring out beyond the balcony wondering what if whatever I was feeling was the only real thing in the world, and that the hole in my heart was the only thing that ever did exist and what I want it to be filled was decidedly as unreal as my incompleteness was true, I found it.**

**AND IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL THAT I DO NOT REGRET ANYTHING. MY GOOD DEEDS HELPED ME MAKE IT, EVERY DEBAUCHERY LED TO THIS, EVERY MISTAKE RESULTED TO MY READING AND BUYING THE BOOK OF ALL BOOKS, THE BEGINNING OF THE END, THE START OF A WAR—**

**AND IT'S SO WORTH IT. IT'S SO SO SO SO WORTH IT.**

**I have to collect myself before I become a living sin. I finished the book as fast as a donkey took Jesus to the holy land. GODSPEED, folks, GODSPEED. I read it in one day because, frankly, it's a book you can't just put down, it's unputdownable—it's not a word? It needs to be—SOMAN CHAINANI IS A REAL GENIUS AND ANYBODY WHO SAYS OTHERWISE WOULD HAVE ME TO DEAL WITH. I might be exaggerating, but he unlocks the mind of children and young adults, a feat attained by few adults, adults! ADULTS GUYS. They who forgot the joys and simplicity of youth. I don't know if he understands his readers, but I do know I understand the messages he divulges in his books by his characters. His simple strings of words; rebels to the extreme of literature couture, tyrants of the tradition—his words speak for themselves, his words are BOLD! If he didn't know how to write, then he wouldn't have chosen words that could reach out to your consciousness and touch your soul, opening a part of you so new, or so old, neglected by other outward obligations. He used **_choice words _**that practically ARE meant to be read AND understood! He doesn't just beat around the bush, he knows what he's doing, he knows what he's talking about! If he's not a writer, I don't know who is.**

**It started off as—I don't know if he's teasing us that long to drag the revelations to the near end, but if that's the style that helps him think up hilarious situations, I hope he doesn't stop—quite slow, then quick-paced, until you're all—**

**"DID I MISS SOMETHING?"**

**While there were definite "wtf" moments, I also had my share of "I KNEW IT!" moments. (I analyze things too much for it not to concern my parents but lol. I guessed some of the plot, but I blame my excitement for the book and greed for the story to actually read reviews of it and get some ideas.)  
**

**_MINOR SPOILER_: **I have this weird headcanon that Sophie and Aric would end up together. Swear. I have a lot more feels about Tedragatha after the second book too omfg


	2. Welcome O Single One, Meeting your Match

**/ WELCOME, O SINGLE ONE! /**

_It heartens me to find youths blossoming into love._

**As Prof Sader puts it. I don't even think this section of the fanfic is necessary.**

**/ MEETING YOUR MATCH /**

**Disappointed to see that this was a REAL A/N? Well, SORRY, but Prof Sader's still sipping tea and munching on baked cookies. (He's on a break lol) For real, though, there's rules in this fanfiction, and I'm bound to follow them because I respect myself too much to not listen to myself.**

**Numero uno – STRAIGHT CHARACTERS ARE STRAIGHT/HOMOSEXUAL CHARACTERS ARE HOMOSEXUAL RULE**

I'm very particular with this rule, for I want to acknowledge the realness of the characters that I don't own. As for some speculated characters who are of questionable sexuality, I'm not one to force them into being straight or bi/homosexual. They are what they are, so I won't bend them any further or try and flatten them. (Forgive me for my lack of vocabulary.) What I'm saying is, if it's obviously stated that they're homosexual/straight, then I wouldn't pretend they're anything else once I make up stories—fanfictions—about them.

**Ikaduha – LAB PARTNERS MAKE CHEMISTRY BETTER**

Ever heard of teaming up for laboratory-related activities? It's almost like that in real life, too. You bring people together to see how they work—whether they're a cute couple or a platonic pair—and observe their compatibility level. Be it best buds who'd been through thick and thin, or absolute strangers who hadn't even interacted within the course of the story, it's neat to write about how they work through a situation together.

**Three – CANONS ARE TOO HEAVY**

Whatever's canon should be included. Leave the canon. Duh. If this is a compilation of shippings in SGE, then there should _undeniably_ be the official pairings in the story. If x has a crush on y, but y is in a relationship with z, then x could still have feelings for y unless the rightful creator stated otherwise. The thing is, if you're to sail on a ship, you wouldn't carry a canon, the ship does. See? I'm not making any sense now, am I? Okay, so, in short, whichever pair whose characters that used to be/is involved together romantically/in a friendly way that's enough to be a potential shipping deserves a chapter here. If they've met once that's not enough to fuel the shipping juice unless x thinks y is attractive. Cue **love at first sight**.

**Quatro – ONE SIDE OF THE POLYGON**

Means unrequited love that leads to a (probable) **web of love** (i.e. love triangle, square…) For every unrequited love, there's always that other person who's caught the affection of the _median_, for whom the _subject_ harbors feelings, whose love isn't returned by the former. This rule focuses on the one whose love isn't reciprocated, and if this applies to this story's chapter, he/she mustn't be left out of the _relationship status_ at the end of it. For example, x likes y but y doesn't like x back, so if x is the subject and this regulation is pertained, the _relationship status_ would be Single by the end of the chapter. If however, x would be together with y, the _relationship status_ would change to In a relationship, as in x is in a relationship with y. In short, it would always refer to the subject of the chapter, which, in this rule's case, is the unrequited love, if it remains that way or changes until the end. I'm…making this sound complicated.

**Five – LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT**

Yes, love at first sight is considered as a potential pairing in this fanfiction. If one of the characters met with his/her contemporaries and felt immediate attraction towards him/her, it's shipped. By one fan or a bunch. Can be **Canons are too heavy**. Agatha digresses the rule and adds a branch to it: **hate at first sight**.

**Sais – WEB OF LOVE**

For less complications, see **One side of the polygon. **Then again, I'm sort of leading you to the lion's den, for the fourth rule's full of stuff you wouldn't get the first time you read it. It'd be harder to explain this time. So, anyway, this rule can or can't be a whole net of **One side of the polygon**. I should change their names the next time I leaf through this again. A web of love includes love triangle, love square, etc. Any or one of the characters comprising the web of love can be the subject of a chapter and his/her _object of affection_; the rest involved in the web of love can be mentioned, make a cameo, or become a large part that makes up the chapter, such as a primary antagonist. It is also (made) possible (by Sophie and Beatrix and Tedros) for a chapter to be composed of a single protagonist within the web of love without hooking up with a legitimate character who pursues his/her affection, as such is the case of **Harem**.

**a…HAREM**

It explains itself. The primary _object of affection_ would either end up with one of the members of the harem or none at all. It clearly states by the law from the law to the law for the law that anybody within the **web of love** or any of its subtypes (**Harem, Burger, The More the Merrier**) can be a subject of the chapter. See **Web of Love**, **The More the Merrier **and **Burger**.

**b…BURGER**

See what I did there? Harem, Burger? Haremburger? (Enough of that before I hurt myself) I don't want to use the word 'sandwich,' because it's only effective under s**ual circumstances. Sorry everyone, but I have to keep this fanfic PG. Though I'll throw in innuendos if I can't resist the opportunity (That's just my personality haha) It's quite plainly about two characters who entreat for the affections of the _median_ (the one in between.) Not to be confused with **The More the Merrier**, where all the members of the **web of love** agree to be in a relationship with each other. It clearly states by the law from the law to the law for the law that anybody within the **web of love** or any of its subtypes (**Harem, Burger, The More the Merrier**) can be a subject of the chapter.

**c…THE MORE THE MERRIER**

The ideal relationship most teenage men would love to be a part of. It's basically a **web of love** where everybody consents to being together with his/her _object of affection_, consequently joining the **web of love** and getting involved with everybody else within it. I don't think infidelity is much of an issue here. I apologize if I couldn't disclose enough information to give any of you a good idea of what this is, but as I don't belong (had never been and probably never will as hard as I could ever persuade everybody) to this sort of relationship. Tell me if I got anything wrong, m'kay? 'Kay. It clearly states by the law from the law to the law for the law that anybody within the **web of love** or any of its subtypes (**Harem, Burger, The More the Merrier**) can be a subject of the chapter.

**THAT WAS FUN! This is starting to sound eerily like a Trope Section of the fanfic. I'll add more the second I come up with them. And please refrain from talking to me in Spanish or Portuguese lol I'm Filipino. Anyway, I can manipulate this story however I want and sometimes break a rule or two, and you would be the ones to notice.**

**This is just the intro, see? I'm making it look like a real book (SUCHAGENIUS) First (official) chapter (NEXT CHAPTER I PROMISE) is /Serenade./ It's more of Humor than Romance, because, I'll be honest here, HortxSophie is the most lighthearted shipping. What with drama bombs just waiting to explode in other ships, it's technically the most lighthearted. (And Hort's "If I could love, I'd love **you**" was the sweetest thing in the book!)**

**Come to think of it, MOST of everything I plan on posting here is Humor. I'll work on the fluffs on later chapters xD I'm more of a comedian anyway than a romanticist.**

**I'll be posting /Serenade/ in a few minutes, I swear!**

**Oh, and of course there'll be TedrosxSophie! Honestly Sophie's personality is so flexible I ship her with everyone (don't tell) She's like the unicorn of the SGE community. Unbelievable and unattainable lol.**


	3. Wooing 1 Serenade HortSophie

**WOOING, The**

**/**

**SERENADE**

**/**

_You could never go wrong with a little serenade!_

**WHAT YOU NEED**

A balcony (Optional)

Instruments (and/or Singing Skills)

A lute suit

A song

A cape

_I would know that this works, and to prove that my theories are right, I sent out a young man who inquired for me specifically the other day. He piqued my interest for, of all the people, I'd expect _villains_ the very least to ask about love advices! Nonetheless, mum's the word. He disclosed to me his current predicament through fumbled words, seeming to be quite the romanticist. Fearing the discrimination of his kin, he sought for the only possible person to assist him, somebody who was neither Good nor Bad, who was young enough to grasp and relate to his problems and also old enough to know how to handle them, who was skilled enough to guide him, yet limited in the visual discernment to allow him to do things on his own. That could only be me, love expert extraordinaire. I couldn't just leave him in the dark, could I? Not me. His story sounded…well, it was a peculiar one, indeed. I am determined to see to his succession, and nothing would stand in my way._

_Let's put this plan into action!_

**__****;;,;;,;;,;;.****;;,;;,;;,;;**

Hort stood at the front of Room 66, nervous. He adjusted his collar, noticing with mild interest that it's gotten hot. He picked on the loose strings of his suit consciously, in his mind rehearsing his dialogues and chords, in case he was too blinded by flawlessness to remember: _…A minor, C minor…_

Thinking his hair would appear a mess, he considered licking his palm and sweep his bangs back, and then realized, with a jolt, that his breath must smell _horrendous_.

Of course, he was prepared: He drew out a bottle of freshener with a sinister-sounding name, and sprayed. All done! Now he's irresistible.

Satisfied with himself, he knocked.

There was shuffling inside.

Muffled alto tones inside, then a singular soprano: He couldn't be wrong now. Days of scouting for where she stayed and he'll be rewarded with girls in their nightwear. Yes. Yes, he regretted nothing. The knob was being turned. Carefully, Hort readied his lute—

—and out came Anadil. "_Hort_? Why are you here?" She was so shocked it seemed insulting.

Hort, albeit disappointed it wasn't whom he was pandering to, stood his ground. "For the same person I've been professing my love to these past weeks—"

"Whatever you plan to do, _not_ _here_!" Ani said through gritted teeth. Her rats even peered from their usual place to glare at him. "Anywhere else, you'd be entertainment with the only person annoyed by you being Sophie. _Here_, there's a significant increase of that toll."

"Not to be rude or anything, but when you opened the door, I was expecting a pretty lady."

"Meanwhile I was right about a wolf knocking."

Hort tried to squeeze into the room past Anadil, except now Hester was blocking the way inside, wearing a hanging black garb that made her look like a raven.

"What do you want, Pipsqueak?"

You know, for a girl with an almost-pleasant-to-hear voice, she does inflect it kind of roughly. Before choice words slipped from his mouth, Hester held up a hand, "Know what? Don't answer that. If it's Sunshine you're looking for, we'll just get her out for you."

"I need to do it inside," pointed out Hort.

"_Why_."

Seeing Hester's tattoo glowing red, he instantly knew she meant business. "She might not appreciate the benefits this hall offers!"

Ani and Hester looked at each other. "We could live with that."

There was a third voice. It was Dot. "What's Hort doing here?"

"Right now, ignoring you." He cut in between the girls and let himself in the room. "Sophie?"

There was barely any difference between the Girl Dorms and his own: It even resembled his room, from the soot-covered bed sheets to three rodents. Oh, and Anadil's rats, too. The sole dissimilarity was not even around—not anywhere in sight, at least. The bathroom door was, however, shut. There could only be one person taking that long in the bathroom. (Not in the disgusting sense.) In the three-second silence, he heard somebody singing inside.

"See? She's too busy flirting with her own reflection," said Hester, closing the door, smart enough to see how leaving Hort out would just cause more trouble.

"I don't think you're going anywhere with her," Anadil stated, bit her lip, then added, "or anyone else, for that matter."

Moving past the nonbelievers and determined to make his journey count rather than pointless, Hort rapped on the door.

The response was immediate. And brusque.

"Oh, _now_ you wanna go in?"

Pleased to find the door unlocking, Hort's mind went into overdrive: His imagination must be put at ease. Could she be wearing her nightgown? This is so sudden! Excited, he swung his lute to position his fingers as a figure came into view—

—an ear-piercing screech blasted everyone's eardrums.

Sophie slammed the door right in his face. "_Just what do you think you're doing here?_"

Oh no! He made a bad impression! Scrambling for words while Dot and the others were laughing hysterically, Hort pressed his palms on the door to try reasoning with her.

"I thought a little surprise would help cheer you up!"

"Yeah," cackled Ani. "She sounds real surprised!"

"This is the _Ladies' _Dorm!"

"D'you think he'd dress like _this_ for bed?" Hester made her way toward the bathroom. She stood beside Hort, looking at the door like she'd do anything to see the look on Sophie's face. Hort could've sworn she could see through solid. "He'll be quick with this, won't you, Bloodbroth?"

"Yes, Sophie!" piped in Hort, not even caring about her unexpected need to help him. "Just one song!"

A groan from inside. "A _song_?"

"Nine verses of it!" He added, thinking fast, "Five if you talk with me for thirty minutes."

The silence told Hort think that she was debating over which of the two was worse, weighing the approximated agony. The longer it took, the ruder Sophie was on the inaction. Even Hester appeared fazed by her indecisiveness. Perhaps it was because she didn't want Hort being here or, in a less likely but plausible way, her narrow mind was slowly understanding infatuation blossoming into love.

"Hurry _up_, Ever! I need my spell books inside!"

…cross that last one.

"It's almost curfew, Sugarplum," Dot said from across the room. "Wait any longer and you'd be asleep. You don't want to nap on the toilet'sfloor, do you?"

At last, she spoke. "…Fine. But because he ruined my night make-up, make it three verses. And I'm up until ten minutes."

"Twenty-five." It was a bet with a heavy price, and it slipped from his mouth.

"Are you telling me when I should sleep—"

"Can't you just squeeze him in your schedule?" Ani snarled. She was tucking her rats in their blankets, which were actually hoary handkerchiefs.

"She's right," chirped Dot. "I bet it took even longer for him to get up here."

Silence.

That's a good thing.

"…Is the song written by you?"

Startled she was addressing to him, Hort squeaked in glee, "No."

"Your…mom?"

"No!"

"To be perfectly—"

"For crying out loud!" Without warning, an annoyed Hester rammed the door open, and inside stood the unlikely witch, wincing, make-up indeed uneven.

Hort dropped his lute, breath-taken. He thought he never saw anyone look so lovely in smeared mascara.

Sophie eyed Hester. Then she reached out to tug at her dress. "You know, a _little_ cut here—"

"Get him out of here." She pushed past Sophie to get inside, and Hort automatically went forward to catch her, though gravity played with things a bit, and thus Sophie maintained her balance an inch from Hort's reaching arms.

As his tactic proved needless, Hort bowed, then crossed his chest with a finger. "My dearest! Love brought me thence, who prompts my speech. When in my Master's sight I stand, thy praise to him I oft will tell." There was a pause. Sophie opened her mouth before—"She then was silent! And I thus began: O Lady! By whose influence alone, mankind excels whatever is contained wi—"

"What song is that?"

Hort blinked. "I…I haven't even started yet.

"Why don't you save your breath and start singing, Honey," said Sophie, in a sweet voice.

"One last line—"

"One minute penalty."

"You can't do that!" Hort retorted.

"Yes," she filed her nail. "I can. For every wail, whine, complaint, grumble, whimper or gripe I hear from you, you get a penalty."

Hort dropped his arms in protest. "That's not fair!"

"That makes two minutes. And you should speak for yourself, Horton, I don't remember inviting you to my chambers. At _night_."

"I _asked _you! Add that to the list of stuff you _accidentally ignored_—"

"Three minutes up!" Sophie smirked.

"Okay, whatever you say—"

"Oh, don't forget 'Your Majesty.'"

"What?"

Sophie rolled her eyes as she approached him. His heart skipped a beat.

"Your Majesty. If you're already bothering to call me 'My Dearest,' you might as well call me by the title I so rightfully deserve."

Behind his back, her roommates exchanged looks, as if they shared a private joke.

"Yes, Your Majesty." He bowed once more, and Sophie was already close enough that he could catch her scent: Cucumbers…Hort resurfaced, nostrils still flared from taking in the aroma. Sophie waited, eyeing his face for a few seconds, then said, "Five minutes."

"No! It's—" Panicky, Hort did the math in his head, and exclaimed, "it's barely even four minutes—"

"New rule!" Sophie raised a finger to prove a point. "No _sniffing_. Ooh, for that angry remark it's six minutes."

"I wonder," Dot said aloud, "what else is perfume for if it isn't smelling?"

"She's got a point, Buttercup."

Haven't they got anything better to do than comment?

No matter how directed at her the flaws they mentioned were, Sophie still dismissed them insignificant. Hort pointed at them. "Do they count?"

"Unfortunately no." Hort let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "But if you like, we could listen to what they say and waste all the precious time."

"I wasn't—" He caught himself quickly then gritted his teeth. "Understood, Your Majesty."

He searched in her eyes for something to cling to, yet saw something entirely different: A haughty anticipation. Like she was challenging him. Steeling his nerves and setting his ambition, he didn't try to delay, and with one, swift movement started playing the lute.

Music filled the room with a tune so familiar it danced in the recesses of their memories, a player in the game of hide and seek long forgotten…Ears turned to the source, so did hearts, as the melody became closer and closer for them to grasp, remember. For a full thirty seconds, the Tower was quiet, the song echoing its lonely halls like a ghost, haunting the forlorn spirits, awakening a new sense, its harmony abandoned by the changing world, yet arisen.

It was so beautiful, so mellifluous, that it may bring tears to the ones of the blackest of hearts…

Until Hort began singing.

"I _c_**a**_n_ _S__**h**_**o**w yO**u** _t_**h**e _**w**__o__**r**_l_d_…**s**_h__**i**_n**in**g _s_**h**_**i**_m_m_**e**_r_**in**gs**P**_le_**n**_**d**_i_d—"_

"_Moment ruined_! Definitely ruined!" cried Hester, plugging her ears with tissues.

Sophie's eye was twitching. There was a reason why villains rarely have a single in fairytales. His voice resembled nails scratching a black board—she shuddered and covered her ears.

"Sophie!" Anadil's voice rang out. The rest of whatever she said drowned in Hort's.

"—p_r_**i**_n_c**e**_s_**s, n**_o_w,_w_H**e**n dI**d **y_o_**u—"**

Sophie mouthed "_What?_" to her.

"I _said_—"

"—**h**_E_a_**r**__t_'s **d**e_S_**i**_**r**_e? I _c_**a**_n O__**p**_e**n **_y_o**u**r _e_**y**_e_s—"

Sophie must have been looking at her stupidly, for she looked like she was going to slit her own wrists.

She read her lips.

"_Make. Him. Stop."_

Hopeless, she did crazy gestures. Any feeble attempt to soothe him would be futile.

She swore her eardrums would burst from the atrocity as he hit the chorus: He sang a pitch higher than Aladdin did on this part, but that didn't mean he was consistent. Puberty knocked his voice every edge of a note; it was jagged, high, and beyond unwelcome to sensitive ears.

Make him stop.

Everybody, living or dead, relied on her to cease this torrent of terribleness.

Dot's head was hidden by her pillow; Ani threw bed sheets over herself; Sophie could barely see Hester anymore underneath the stack of tissues. Surely he couldn't have been this bad, right? Wrong!

"Hort—I get it, I get it." She tried to break him off without ever getting near him, though that was as useless as whispering. Nonetheless, the very sound he made bunged his ears, continuing still.

"—**P**_o_i_**n**_t o_f _**v**_i_**e**w! N_o _**o**n_**e **_**t**_o _**t**e**l**_l—"_

Hort's singing should be illegalized! That would be the _very first_ law she'd make once she'd reign her own kingdom!

"_Hort—_"By this time she knew it pointless and gave up.

"—say we're o**n**_l__**y**_ d**r**_e__**a**_m_i_**n**g…"

Hort (at last!) was finished, though left the rest of the song to his instrumental skills, which were fortunately well beyond his singing abilities. His sharp fangs were peeking from his small mouth, curling into a toothy smile.

Sophie clicked her tongue. "It's pretty short for a serenade."

Hester threw her a look that made Sophie think she should take back what she said, although Hort was already discreet, so she shouldn't regret anything. "You know, I've had _plenty _other hopeless romantics fawn over me…"

And that's when she noticed the dragging sound. At first she thought it was Hort's lute, until it didn't sound quite right: Then, surprisingly, it was Hort _himself_. He was elongating the "ng" consonant.

"What—what are you doing?"

"Nnnnnnnggggggggg—" Hort's face was turning blue.

"Out with it," she said, eyes squinting.

"Is he asphyxiating himself?"

Dot raised a point. "Nah, he wouldn't unless he's kissed Sophie yet."

Sophie felt a bit of her mascara running down her chin, and as she leaned toward him, she got it.

"You want me to sing?"

Glowing with glee—or suffocation—he nodded, wildly smiling to show that he was in real need of some oxygen.

Sophie wasn't entirely sure this was going the way Hort planned, nor did she want to sing—it would severely damage her throat, consequently her chances of passing tomorrow's talent test, too—although the poor thing seemed like he was looking forward to her singing with him.

Maybe just a little part of the song?

Just as she was about to reach her decision, Hort collapsed to the floor, dazed.

Hester's head popped into view upon hearing the thud. "What the hell did you do to him?"

However, Sophie, still shocked from Hort's sudden loss of consciousness, shrugged. "I didn't do anything!"

"Funny, I vividly remember you saying it was _princesses _who faint." Anadil's voice was sarcastic.

Dot peered at them from her bed.

"You should do something." If she was worried, she certainly didn't show it.

Looking at the unconscious body of her suitor, Sophie stamped her foot in franticness. "If you've got any ideas, I'm all ears!"

"I don't want _that_ in my room!"

"Well, neither do _I_—"

"Try CPR!"

"You're saying that I should lock lips with _him_?" snapped Sophie.

"It's that or we have to deal with his corpse," said Dot firmly.

Sophie refrained from scowling. She kneeled to Hort's side, at all costs avoiding his face.

She _was_ the one who waited too long, but he could've breathed if he wanted to! She didn't want that much demonstration of devotion—not from anyone who wasn't a prince. And ew—was she really going to kiss Hort? Ahem, _perform the CPR_ with him? Honestly, she was supposed to be trained to _receive_ it, not _do it on her own_. And, while we speak of this, she _shouldn't_ be learning how to strangle pigs or butcher minions—switch the two—or even anything she'd been taught at Evil!

Her eyes accidentally moved to Hort's face, then his lips.

Sophie suppressed the urge to gag. This was _not_ how a fairy tale should end—it was barely even a tale worth telling: Of an ambitious peasant who passed out from singing too long? No wonder Sophie was cast as being the villain: It was her he was singing to! The only question was, was it going to end like Sleeping Beauty, or Beauty and the Beast? Sophie wouldn't know, nonetheless she was willing to bet that it certainly wasn't the first. This could easily have been distinguished as The Princess and the Fr—let's not dwell on this.

Hoping this would all be over, she leaned in close to his face, careful not to breathe through her nose, and placed her hands on his chest…

…then nearly crushed his ribs.

Hort immediately sat upright, wheezing for breath—he almost hit Sophie in his fit had she not moved her head in time.

He was having a hard time to breathe, coughing so hard he might just black out for real this time.

Sophie didn't laugh.

Once he caught his breath, he rasped, "Were you trying to kill me?"

"Excuse me?" Her eyes were glazed with fury at his insolence. "More like _saved _you, you impertinent _maggot_!

"I was faking it!"

"Ha!" Sophie stood up triumphantly. "I _knew_ it!"

"Okay, it may have been kinda reckless to just assume you to give me CPR," he said slowly, standing up himself, "But you aren't without fault here! My tongue still aches from that salami you lit on fire."

"Which you ate," pointed out Sophie.

"Seafood never tasted the same thanks to you! And so did everything else!"

"What about me?" said Sophie, taking a dangerous step to him. "You're not exactly a pleasure to look at. _Especially_ at ten P.M. in—Hort, what are you _wearing_?"

Like it was his cue, his face brightened up. "This!" Hort did a dramatic arm gesture, but failed in throwing off his cape because it stuck around his shoulders. There goes the jam to the sandwich. As he gathered his bearings, he turned to Sophie again. "—is my romantic drive manifested in earthly garments."

Hester folded her arms, turning on her bed to face the other side, like she completely had nothing to do with this anymore. "I don't think your 'romantic drive' suits you."

"And here I thought we'd finally get some sleep," Ani thought aloud.

"I'm determined to make this relationship work, Sophie, no matter what it takes," Hort said lovingly. Annoyance flashed across Sophie's emerald eyes, and if it weren't for the pink dress and the bunny slippers, he would have taken her seriously.

"We don't _have_ a relationship, Hort," she hissed menacingly.

"Yeah, and aren't you, like, disturbed to see Princess Peach with green glue all over her face?" Anadil dipped her finger in Sophie's concoction by the bedside table and showed the substance to her rats. They took one sniff of it and quickly retreated to their little beds.

"I guess love is blind," said Dot.

"Sophie, my dearest! Doubt is merely an obstacle our love can conquer—" Hort leaned in, and then Sophie put her hand between their faces.

"Hort, I don't need this—"

"Is that denial I hear?" murmured Hort, taking Sophie's hand. "It's the first step to love, Milady."

"Or rejection."

The voice was so low and gruff that Hort almost couldn't believe it was Dot, yet he brushed her off. "I appreciate the remark, but if you would be so kind as to not interrupt us—"

Sophie was gesturing madly at him, eyes wide in horror. Her lips were pursed together tight, although he caught words like, "_Exmay on the alkingtay_!"

"What's that, a spell…?" Hort said, confused. He scratched his lute suit, finding that his cape wasn't stuck anymore.

The look of terror disappeared on Sophie's face when she slapped her forehead, and he turned around.

A ridiculously hairy figure silhouetted black was standing under the door frame, nails curled into sharp dark claws, fangs whiter than the hiding moon. It looked intimidating in its blood-red jacket and stance. The only thing that killed the image was its puffy breeches that looked like its mom knitted it.

The wolf Hort slipped past on his way to Room 66 sneered.

"Nice pajamas, Nerd."

The wolf snatched his cape. Well, at least his belt didn't come off.

Spoke too soon.

His pants fell to the floor the moment his cape was taken away, revealing his scrawny legs and star-patterned boxers.

All the room's occupants squeezed their eyes shut.

Hort face-palmed. "Ravan's two sizes bigger than me."

"All right, that's it." The wolf seized him by the collar and threw him out the door. "You're lucky Beast doesn't work overtime, or else I'd send you to the Doom Room straightaway."

As Hort sat up outside, he heard Sophie unmistakably try to convince the wolf to exempt this. "Can't you just let him off this one time?"

"Back to bed, salad grease," grumbled the wolf.

Sophie looked affronted. "_Salad grease_? You should take a look at yourself, Wolverine! What you're looking at is the most perfect, flawless—"

The wolf shut the door behind Sophie. They were all outside.

It was locking the door with its long nail. Sophie's eyes bulged.

"You're—you're not locking me out of my room!"

"Look, lady, I've to stay up for five more hours, and if you don't shut up I'll take matters in my own hands." The wolf was curt, grumpy, and exasperated.

Hort abruptly stepped forward. "Nobody talks to Sophie like that!"

"Know what? How about I leave you here till you learn your lesson!" The wolf groaned, covered his ears, and then walked away.

All was left were Sophie and Hort in the hallway.

Hort stared after the wolf in dismay before he turned to Sophie, who was looking at him. She was wearing an expression he couldn't quite percept. He didn't know if it was admiration or gratitude. One thing's for sure, she looked like she was seeing him in a new light. He shifted uncomfortably.

"You're more audacious than I thought." That's what she said.

He should've known she wasn't one to thank somebody easily, except that was closest to a compliment she'd ever give him. Hort smiled at her. "Even if I can't be the prince to a princess, I can be a henchman to a villain."

"Huh," said Sophie, appearing thoughtful. "Be seeing you tomorrow, I guess." She gave him a half-smile and knocked on the door to ask her bunk mates to let her in.

Hort let his lips slip into a grin to offer something in return. "Good night, Prin…Sophie."

With that, he made to leave. As he made his way to the direction of his room, Sophie slammed her fists on the door so hard he stopped on his tracks.

"You _have_ to let me in!" she yelled. A muffled voice from inside, then Sophie said, "_Lesson_! Can't I learn my lesson in the morning? _After_ I sleep in my bed?"

Sounds of furniture moving, like they were blocking the door from letting their roommate inside. Making sure, Sophie shoved her full weight on the door.

Softly sobbing, Sophie's back slid against the door as she sat on the floor, defeated by the law of physics.

She was thrown something soft in the face. She recognized it as Hort's cape. Sophie, appalled, was about to rip the hideous rag to shreds when Hort sat down next to her.

"Looks like we'll be camping out here, then."

Sophie eyed him, then at the cape she realized was going to be her blanket—and his as well—that was the sole thing to keep her from freezing for the rest of the night.

"You do know you could go back to your room right now," she said slowly.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "But where'd be the fun in that?"

Sophie scoffed, though couldn't help smiling. "Weirdo."

"Only for you," Hort whispered, stretching his arms. Sophie watched him curl into a ball, the single way to be comfortable whilst wearing only his underpants for bottoms. Something that resembled revulsion was almost waning inside her. Almost. She thought he was asleep already when he talked. "I'll leave the second the sun rises."

"Oh, no, I'm _done_ seeing you any kind of naked. You're not leaving until you get your shorts back," said Sophie, rolling her eyes. She turned her back to him.

Seconds passed, and a silence settled over the two.

"Um. Sophie?"

She yawned. "What."

"Can you, uh, sing me to sleep?"

**;;,;;,;;,;;.****;;,;;,;;,;;**

_Hort did, in the end, spend the night with his princess. Not in the way he hoped or expected, though at least they were together. In the cold, lonely halls._


	4. Wooing 2 Walk in the Woods TristanKiko

**WOOING, The**

**/**

**WALK IN THE WOODS**

**/**

_Most of the times, my office door is left ajar. Why? To let students in and pass their scrolls, of course. Don't want them having any more excuses to not do their homework. Not to worry, I jinxed the room to make sure nothing that belongs inside gets out. Now, as I was saying, most of the times, my office door is left ajar. One night I worked overtime—in hopes to get a raise: I'd quite like to buy myself a new tie—and found someone at my door. To my surprise, it was a princess, judging by the use of perfume. (That's one reason why students use such objects to distinguish themselves for me. Such delightful children.)_

_I had to attend to her immediately—who knew how long she'd been out there—and so I busied myself listening to her._

_Somewhere between the lines I wondered if this was why the School Master hadn't hired a Student Psychiatrist yet._

_And so I advised her the best way I could._

**WHAT YOU NEED**

**1. Place to stroll**

**2. Someone with you**

_That's about it. The girl was particularly cross with me after I said it: Claimed that she'd been waiting for hours for the man best informed of love, a problem which she thought I could formulate a solution to, when the said love expert wasn't even me.  
_

_That did sting, if a bit._

**__****;;,;;,;;,;;.****;;,;;,;;,;;**

Kiko dashed through the Forest, face muddied and hair a nest of thin branches. Bruised, battered and battle-worn, she squeezed tears through her eyes and gnawed at her lower lip for comfort. She didn't need her eyes open. Not this time. She'd already lost her way. Death was everything beautiful around her disguised, so sneaky her own eyes deceived her. She didn't know whether or not to trust her brain—she couldn't even breathe without fearing fumes would suffocate her. Nighttime mist swathed her like she was welcomed. She couldn't let her guard down even for a second.

Blood was flowing freely out her open wounds, coating her both in red liquid and grime that stuck to her. Deep inside she knew a night's bath wouldn't be enough to ward off the stench. As she thought of home, a sinking feeling dragged her heart lower, turning it to a squirming writhing organ. She'll make it through this. She has to.

She rested against a tree, leaning her whole weight against it. It was the only thing that didn't want her dead…She loved this tree. Then, with a sudden thought, she looked up, up its thin twisted trunk, its strong branches that rose to the sky.

Nobody would ever find her up a tree—not if she hid herself cleverly enough. She wouldn't risk falling down, not only to break her bones but also losing her ability to walk altogether, except she had no choice: She smelled of something that lured vicious animals to her. At least if she'd be maimed, humane mercy would delay it long enough for her to strike back. However…beasts were completely different. She wasn't really useful in communicating with animals, either. Seeing her options were limited and the only choice that didn't lead her to her demise the soonest was climbing up the tree.

Feebly, she agreed with herself and put one foot on the lowest branch, her hand grabbing another higher up, pulling her body upward. Everboys competed in climbing up the tree the fastest, and she was the regular witness to such games, for the frequent competitor was none other than Tristan. She mimicked what she watched him do almost every day, and found it relatively easy. The repetitive motion set her at ease with its overall painlessness. It wasn't that bad.

At last she made it to a thick enough branch to rest on. Its leaves made a net of something not unlike a bed. Trial by Tales sure did make roosts on tree branches' bushes a real luxury.

She hoisted herself up, standing on the branch with balance. Kiko used her toe to test the branch bed's strength if it could endure her as long as she could it, and when it proved sturdy enough, she splayed herself comfortably on it then heaved a sigh of relief.

She'll just have to wait until sunrise.

Seconds passed, and the coziness made her slip into sleep…

Then there was a rustle.

Kiko's fluttered open, but she didn't dare move. A Never.

She sucked in incredible amounts of air, catching her own breath. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was a princess—

More noises.

Oh God oh God oh God she didn't want to die—

Sagging, crunching, leaves whispering to each other, to her, but the plants' words only passed as foreign in her ears, telling her the intruder's face, what he was presently doing, though she'd never understand—what caused the petals to shiver and the grass to shudder; everything in the Forest around her was screaming, yet she didn't know, couldn't know—

Through all the ruckus she heard a deep, ragged, uneven breathing. It wasn't her own.

She _would_ die unless she'd stop panicking now!

Kiko did a quick prayer, then let her finger glow—extreme anxiety was the root of it—before she turned to the direction of the sounds and cast her spell.

"_Intrico_!"

It meant to entangle.

There was a loud grunt of surprise, then vines whipping, the ones that weren't wrapped around the mass taut by weight.

"Argh!"

Frightened, Kiko peeked through her fingers. Surprisingly, she saw red hair.

Neverboys didn't have hair that well groomed, or at all.

Rising from her position, Kiko turned to get a better look of her victim.

She flushed in shame: _Tristan_!

The only visible part of him were his horrified eyes and the occasional skin that showed underneath the constricting plants. Her crush struggled to release himself of the lianas' grip: The more he did, the tighter they coiled around him, and he let out a horror-struck gasp that came out hoarse and raspy. Kiko frantically slid down the tree—splinters were of no concern right now!—and undid the jinx as soon as Tristan's face started to turn blue—

The vines were loosening him: Within seconds, Tristan was no longer snared. He rolled to the ground in a heap, gasping for breath, color drained from his face to be replaced by purple, veins showing—Kiko rushed to his side, not knowing how to come up with a real-sounding excuse that didn't make her sound like an idiot.

She chose option x) Apologize profusely.

"_I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorrymsorrymsorimsorimsori—_" With a flash of her finger, he breathed normally again. But that didn't stop the pain. When he uttered something that sounded like, "…cks," she thought he wanted to say "thanks," and left it like that.

He coughed, and Kiko kept her proximity from him. (She didn't want him to think she was overly eager to close their distance.)

"Do you need anything?" she asked, worry in her voice. "There's got to plants here to make herbs out of—or something—we can't let you—"

"It's…okay," he croaked, clutching his stomach. He sounded like a constipated frog. Kiko fought back the urge to laugh at herself. She helped him lean against the tree, where he examined his bruise marks from the vines' aggressive ambush.

"What made…you think I was…a _Never_?" He fixed his gaze on her, and she felt like melting beside him.

"I—I was being attacked everywhere—I thought it'd be the same here." And it was true. This was her only refuge here. Tristan could only nod, sighing. Quite intimidated by his silence, Kiko played with her fingers on her lap, berating herself with every insult she was taught by her mother. (Among them was "dunderhead," and the rest would be left with you.)

Their shoulders suddenly brushed, and it was the best sensation Kiko ever felt in her life. She was so startled that she inhaled sharply.

"What are you doing?" Tristan asked, resting his head against the trunk.

Excuse-excuse-excuse—"It smells nice," she said, a little quickly.

"Ah, I suppose, but this certainly isn't the best hiding place," he replied.

…Oh. So he didn't notice. She let him continue whatever he was talking about. "I used to live in a castle with a garden full of plants like these. Except these are exotic—they're all weird colors, and most here look like they're made from parts of other flowers."

As soon as he said it, Kiko knew at once he was right. Every plant looked bizarre, yet gorgeous: Each specie was a hybrid of at least a dozen disparate flowers, and thus looked both familiar but unusual, for they have inherited some of their parents' traits. The Forest was home to arrays of a wide variety of herbs and shrubs, most flowers, among which are made homes in the process by woodland creatures. There was an ethereal glow to everything, illuminating the darkness with their own radiance as though the plants themselves reflected he light bounced back from the moon. It casted the two with coronas of pale light on the two children. If it weren't for the danger of imminent death, this could've easily been the most beautiful place in the school grounds. Blue Forest was graced with beauty and majesty that balanced its deathly and cadaverous nature.

Weasels and voles and rabbits scampered past them in complete smoothness, as though there was nothing more in their glorious path to obstruct them, free. Butterflies and birds hovered above them, flying and gliding and just enjoying the capaciousness, like they belonged to the vast empty yet whole sky, and it belonged to them. There was splendor in every corner that waited their eyes, a grand sight to see beyond what they could take in of everything; the Forest had everything and more to offer them. They sunk in comfortable tranquility, forgetting the danger and for once just relaxing into the soothing arms of the Forest.

Shadows burned in the dark, chased by fear of the night, as Kiko watched Tristan lean on her, eyes drooping yet bright with amazement.

Minutes passed, and they learned to just let the light that filtered through the leaves of the tree's branches caress them with warmth. Kiko sighed in content.

Her eyes fell upon her hands, her right dropped next to her, where she noticed was just out of reach of Tristan's own. Mildly surprised he was falling asleep, she moved her hand, inching slowly to his. Her fingers just brushed against Tristan's when he stirred.

"I…don't want to lose," he mumbled softly: His breath made Goosebumps erupt from Kiko's skin. He made to stand up, and then, out of instinct, Kiko grabbed his wrist.

"You can't! Th-they might come after you!" she reasoned: Anything to convince him to stay with her.

"I'll be back." Of course, as a prince, he had to assure princesses they'd be safe. But this was ridiculous, and for one obvious reason: "The Nevers are after one of their own, anyway."

Oh, Sophie? Kiko remembered someone of the sort as Agatha's best friend, who was absolutely her exact opposite. She rather made a name for herself—as well as Agatha, but that could've been why they were friends in the first place—after a violation or twenty.

"S-still," said Kiko, faltering. "I…" She gulped. Tristan cocked an eyebrow. (Inwardly, she screamed in delight.)

"…You what." Tristan had an odd idea where she was going with this, but kept it to himself as he didn't want to be thought wrong. She should've gone before she ran in the woods: There was a bathroom in every, like, hall.

He looked sooooooo cute when he's confused. She probably had to answer him already, though she couldn't let him go.

"I like your hair," Kiko blurted out.

Tristan blinked, then cleared his throat. "Yeah, I do, too. So if you won't mind—"

"I like your eyes, too."

At this, Tristan withdrew his hand, laughing nervously. "Thanks, I think yours are pretty too. I should really get going—"

"No! I mean, we should stick _together_." Kiko pulled herself up from the trunk and patted her lap: The instant her eyes were away from him, Tristan _seriously _considered to skedaddle and leave her, but as he took a second longer to think, she turned to him, strangely giddy for somebody to embark on a journey in the wild woods, with her chestnut hair and dimples and princess-y aura like everything was rainbows and unicorns. She hooked his arm with hers and faced the direction he was turning to, practically dragging him by the heels as she went on, "Who _knows _what will happen to either of us?"

"Probably God and the School Master," said Tristan sarcastically. "This might be heaven for you, but it won't be sunshine and butterflies when you get digested by a flytrap."

"Yes, but you'd be there to save me." She had to stop thinking this what was she thinking she was insane this is crazy she mustn't make a fool of herself in front of Tristan no no no no _no_—"You know what, you're right, this _is _heaven—see? There's grapes there, some apples by the creek, and I passed by this amazing tree with red flowers—did I ever tell you how much I love the color red? I don't think I have, but it suits green if it's in the right shade." They were in a cove of trees, and Kiko gestured to everything as they walked on. "Of course, everything and everyone looks good in red, right? Right. My mother's friend—not royal, by the way, but she might as well have been—was this doctor in the local clinic, and Mom took me where she worked once and we walked in during an _operation_! I couldn't tell you how—"

"D'you hear that?"

Tristan whipped around, his arms ready to unsheathe his sword.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary—

A bloodcurdling scream ripped out from ahead, setting his nerves aflame. He drew out his weapon and stepped forward. "Don't move!"

"Tristan?" Kiko balled her fists and stayed close to him, fidgeting.

He didn't answer immediately: He gestured to her, one that she knew meant that he should stick close behind. Tristan carefully moved forward, limbs stiff and jelly-like at the same time, clutching on to his sword firmly. They were nearing the rustling rhododendrons.

Every sense that saw reason screamed at him to run away, to scamper like the little boy he felt he was underneath the princely façade, never to look back at something he'd gloom over for not regretting at all: Yet he stood stock-still, rigid with terror. His boots crunched the leaves on the ground each step he took closer to the bushes, making his nerves tingle in apprehension, the grass eating up the leather of his soles with munching noises.

There was something in the thicket.

Kiko pressed herself against his back, and he raised his weapon, bracing for blood—

_Now!_

A mangy black lynx leapt from its hiding place and clawed at Tristan's chest.

"It's a kitten!" exclaimed Kiko.

Tristan dropped his blade and yelled, trying to pry the feline off him—its claws were digging deep into his skin that his shirt was soaked with blood—"Get it off me! _Get off, you dirty cat!_"

Kiko cooed at the creature currently spitting at Tristan's face. "Hello there! Be a good cat and come to Kiko, come on!"

"It's—not—_working_!"

"That's probably because she doesn't like strangers," pointed out Kiko, grabbing the cat by whatever seemed to be its torso and digging her heels to the ground for some leverage. The cat hissed venomously, and Tristan said nothing more as its sticky saliva splattered on his face, though as a gentleman of honesty, he did his best to express his disdain and made a bitter expression. Kiko was saying, "Then again, she couldn't have pounced at you if she didn't think you looked bad—"

Oh, _now _she was saying that boyish traits have an effect on cats, too?

It sure was making itself comfortable by mewing and growling, its carmine-brown eyes burning into his own. He thought he never saw anything so brutish. Kiko was grunting as she summoned all her strength to force the thing off him—Tristan realized with a searing jolt that her hands were holding his as they yanked and alternately pushed the cat off him—

The black animal jumped off him with a mad shriek, landing on the ground with grace, apparently gloating as it carried itself like it was superior, swaying out of the clearing and back into the groves. Tristan and Kiko watched it disappear, the former of which cross.

"Stupid maintenance," Tristan muttered as its tail vanished with it. "I'm already saddled with you, and now I've stained my armor."

He didn't know the effect of that. He didn't care. At least, not now. Kiko held out her hand for him to hold it. He did. She pulled him up. "What's that cat doing here, anyway?"

"Something must've spooked it." Tristan bent down to pick up his sword. He studied the bushes in which the cat hid itself, then turned to Kiko. "We're heading this way."

She fidgeted like she wanted to argue, yet didn't. Tristan took it as a sign that she was okay with it.

Through the never-ending coppice Tristan slashed at the branches that blocked their path, his feet drowning in the mud as he tramped forward, making unhelpful squelching sounds that just made him uneasy. It was hard to see what was in front of him—the moon was clouded, and the only way he knew where he was going was his present position. Turning around could make them lose their way. Looking behind him would make them lost. Still, he had to check if Kiko was following, or else he's on his own. He felt around with his sword, though was careful in assuming that nobody was in front of him, or else he'd accidentally maim someone.

"It can't have run that far," said Tristan, hoping Kiko would reply.

There was a vague "mhmm" at the back.

"You better get ready. Nevers are usually adept in spells."

Kiko answered, "Uh-huh."

She was strangely agreeable today. Tristan wasn't sure if she was just feeling queasy, or she was mad at him. If it was the latter, then why? She probably wasn't. Either way, she seemed to be deep in thought. Tristan scowled: He didn't like agreeable people. And one thing's for sure, Kiko from anytime but now was _not _agreeable. He wondered if she was just nervous around him, but that couldn't be it. She was particularly blunt minutes ago. And if she was in any way into him, he wouldn't like to think it. Of course, he understood he was being friendly and all—and perhaps she was, too—though he shouldn't jump to conclusions. Especially here. In the Blue Forest. Where you'll most likely end up hurt. _Definitely _hurt.

Clicking his tongue, he stopped walking and stowed away his sword—for now.

Kiko bumped into Tristan. She felt the muscles under his shirt tense as she gathered her bearings and stood up straight.

"What's out there?" she whispered, keeping distance from him.

Tristan, mind blank, didn't know how to respond. "…Nothing's out there."

"Oh." She shuffled her feet, finding the grass interesting out of the blue. It occurred to Tristan that she might've been too shy to ask just _why _he stopped, so he said, "So you, uh, you wanna rest?"

It was a question, not a suggestion: Every nerve in his body told him he shouldn't, and that energy kept him going. Besides, they already cut a long way into this part of the Forest, and he certainly didn't want to stop when he made it this far. Except the burden of company was always permission. If Kiko couldn't keep up, he only had to stop.

Kiko sounded more confident this time. "Actually, I wanna keep walking."

"Good. I mean, sure." This was peculiar. He thought that Kiko was a motormouth: And of all the times she was discreet it had to be now. When things were insanely awkward. He drew out his sword and resumed to shred the vines and branches to make a clear path.

As for Kiko, she was mulling over and over to herself that this wasn't the kind of walk she meant. Hunting for Nevers? That was not the least romantic! What had Professor Sader told her again? She practiced her flirty lines over and over and _over_. But when the time calls for them—_nothing_.

Nada. Naught. Nil. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Zippo. Mental block.

She lagged demurely behind Tristan, hoping she wasn't in his way of slaying villains. Almost as soon as she thought about dates in the grove and constructed a scene in which she and a certain red-haired prince held hands and gazed up the moon, Tristan's shout of glee ripped the dream into a million strips.

"So it went this way!"

"Oh, yay." She faked cheer, making it quite obvious, and whether or not Tristan noticed it, he didn't show any of its signs. But once she stepped out of the shroud of vines, she gasped.

A magnificent glade. Leaves' tears dripped to the ground, as liquid as time flowed. Moss blanketed the boulders emitting a pale glow; faint and enchanting as the petals of the glade, canopies upon leafy canopies creating a window for the sea of peeking stars, open and inviting as the carpet of grass was convivial. Arms of trees twined together to bridge gaps, climbing as high as the door to the sky, sinking as low as the moss-veiled ground, as if ensuring this place remain a secret. As Kiko stepped into the clearing, bound by the beauty of it, her feet found soft static on the ground as she stepped on the leaf-strewn forest floor, feeling the droplets cool her toes, the shock of its moisture invigorating her. Tristan was a little bit ahead of her, stepping to the moonlit part of the clearing, where it was clear of the shade the trees provided. She followed him like a slinking shadow, soaked to the skin with moonbeam. Arctic breeze blew by them like a salutation, chilling them to the bone: Frost kissed their flesh and they were greeted by the familiarity of the coolness of the evening's embrace, letting the moon bathe them in twilight.

For a moment it seemed like the undergrowth knotted around her feet to ensnare her before Kiko realized she couldn't move because she was limp by the simple shock that something like this was untouched, an enchanted, mystic place in the woods—the gorgeous ones in the fairy tales, the ones they always talk about, free of monsters and beasts and worries. Here, she felt at ease, the weight of being chased by the Nevers lifted from her like the butterflies fluttering about, wings spread wide aglow with magic, nocturnal to the music of the night, silence their sanctuary, darkness their stage.

"It's amazing…" breathed Tristan, gazing up at the silver asters. Kiko felt his eyes turn to her, and she looked back at him, smiling.

"I've never seen anything bluer than this," she replied. She wasn't talking about the Forest. Tristan's eyes were glittering, light dancing around his fiery mane, ablaze in the moon's light. "Or redder."

"I have." He flicked her forehead playfully. "You're quite the blusher."

Kiko's hand moved up to where he touched her and she giggled. "Let's take a stroll."

"That's a brilliant idea—I've been dying to stretch my bones," Tristan chuckled.

There was a whole garden of the glade for them to explore: It was like a forest in the Forest, and they were determined to see every inch of what their eyes could absorb. They followed a carpet of leaves' path, enjoying the feeling of the lightness under their feet as they sunk, crunching the grass. It was like everything was so sacred, never to touch, never to keep…Yet they could indulge in the splendor with their one or two senses, a feast for the eyes and a spark for the sensation.

At night nothing was awake but those whose magnificence only recognized to be seen at the death of light, surpassing the sun's searing shine like they have a radiance of their own, subtle, faint, yet dazzling: There truly were some things that were appreciated in the darkness, wherein you could see them, esteem yourself, dignified, to ever come across such a natural wonder only many a fellow so fortunate as to stumble upon them as you, yet keep it clandestine, locked in a vault of your memories, a secret stored to be handled it deemed proper, to remember and reflect, a fairy tale place you can but never revisit—it was how most storybooks told tales; vague distractions that avert you from the real hidden magic.

Kiko and Tristan were wrapped in their own comfortable, basking in the view before them. There was much to appreciate in the school, yet nothing could compete with nature.

They walked not hand-in-hand, as much as Kiko wished they could, but they never walked so close to each other before. Somehow…

She sighed.

"It's really lovely." Tristan said it, not her. He might've thought she was gasping in the view or something. She sighed again. This time he looked at her. "Well, aren't you gonna say anything?"

He kicked a rock as it rolled to the bushes. Kiko couldn't find anything to do while she hesitated. "It's okay."

A lie. She was terrible at lying—and even Tristan knew it: He guffawed, the shadows of his smile masking his face.

"'Okay'? This is anything but okay—it's cool, isn't it?"

"If you say so," she mumbled, not completely into this.

"Now wait." Tristan turned to face her fully, his hands in his pockets from the cold. "This isn't the Kiko I know."

"Then you don't know me very well." She should shut her mouth _now _or she'd spend the rest of her days weeping in her room about how bratty she was being when she had the chance now!

"I wish you'd let me, though," said Tristan softly.

Kiko was screaming inside her head.

"Why don't you spare me the misery of thinking about this for days and tell me what I did wrong?"

Now she was really confused. "What?"

"Playing dumb now." His warm breath turned to white puffs as they walked on. "You've been moody ever since you pulled the cat off me. What's the deal?"

"Deal…deal—I'll tell you what you did wrong," muttered Kiko, her voice high. She kept her pace even. "You said you're saddled with me. How does that not make anyone upset?"

"Is _that _what this is about?" scoffed Tristan in disbelief. "I know what I said—that was stupid of me, I shouldn't've said it—"

"And wished that somebody else was in my place instead?" Kiko snapped. Tristan whirled in front of her, his hands up to show he was totally and utterly mixed up.

"Time-out, time-out! Easy there," he said, a little bit of himself cowering as he saw her glower. "You should let out some steam first. I was—glad to see that I could team up with you, honest. And in no way did I wish anybody else was with me right now."

"That's not the only thing I'm mad about with you," she mumbled, disgruntled. Tristan raised an eyebrow. "…Maybe it _is_…"

"A-are we fine now?" He paused, then said, "Don't tell me that's why you're cross with me."

"It is not," Kiko said, face reddening: She was figured out. She tramped ahead, still indomitable to see what else waited in the glade's part of the woods.

Tristan watched her, then trekked on himself, muttering, "_Girls_."

Six minutes into the rest of their stroll they discovered a majestic pond with such clear water you could see the water floor. That's where Tristan took off his cuirass by Kiko's demand ("It must be a drag to wear such heavy clothes, isn't it?") and there he washed the blood off him, examining his small scratch marks. They weren't lethal, and so was the cat: He wondered where they kept pets when they shouldn't even be allowed to enter the Forest, but he supposed a manner of beings made their way in and out of this acquiescent land. After all, the School Master was himself kidnapping kids, so letting cats in just fit his flexible bill. Sometimes students wonder whether he was _really _Good, and if he was, he must be stupid, or inexplicably, capriciously Evil. The pair left the pond, quenching their thirst, grabbed as many midnight snacks they could from the berry trees with branches low enough to pick from and sped off, giggling and chortling about which between getting pustules or empty stomachs was worse.

"This is what I just _loathe _about being so clever," Kiko was saying, "It's not like I wanna flunk on purpose just to not enter the Trial by Tale—but it takes quite a toll on me and—when I was seven-something I was usually let outside with my brothers to play, and I did get unwanted bruises, mind you—"

"No, no, I get what you mean," said Tristan, sucking on a fruit. "Not in the way you priss—princesses get it…"

"Don't be silly. In order for a prince to get a Happy Ending he has to see things in a way princesses see." She slowed her walk, wistfully staring at his open palm. "…So he'd understand her."

Everything was quiet again—not anxiously so. Just…serene. Meanwhile inside Kiko, a steady rhythm not unlike boulders crashing to the ground was playing, rocking her into limbo, nauseous and feeble. Should she get on with it? Would she muster her courage to ask…?

"Tristan," murmured Kiko, voice as crisp as the leaves beneath her feet. She didn't know if he heard her. She didn't care. She was hearing her heart beat louder than her uttered words, dry albeit drawn out. "Who do you like?"

It seemed like he anticipated this question. He didn't think long about it; it's like he just didn't want her to know this soon. Finally, he exhaled, "…Beatrix."

"I knew it…" Kiko laughed mirthlessly.

"What's the matter _now_?" Tristan bayed. He definitely took note of everything she did.

"I'm not upset," said Kiko, unconvincingly, "it's just that I'm not keen on your taste for girls, that's all. If I were you, I'd be seeing someone a little more original, maybe Reena or Millicent—"

"I may like someone else…but that doesn't mean you should stop trying." Tristan trudged on.

They were back at the glade, exactly as they left it: It appeared so calm that it was almost holy. The garden where commissioners would've prayed. A place to clear your conscience. Kiko stared up at the starry sky, which was both a ceiling and not.

"Easy for you to say. All you boys are after the prettiest girl."

"Only the stupid ones," murmured Tristan. Kiko halted and stared at him: The blue in his eyes were deep pools of inexorable intensity. He ran his hand through his flaming red hair, eyes not leaving her face. "And that doesn't mean we can't like anyone any less pretty."

"So you're saying Beatrix's a better sight than me."

"I didn't say anything about you," he whispered.

Kiko's heart stopped beating. All oxygen was lost to her within five seconds. She should've shut up. She should've _shut. Up._

Tristan swelled in pride, if a bit. He cocked his head to the side, amused, then asked, "Kiko, do you like m—"

"No." She bit her tongue.

Blinking, Tristan pressed, a little more persistently, "Do you have a crush on—"

"No," Kiko said, even waving her hand for effect.

"All right," Tristan said, hands raised in mock surrender. "So you don't."

"Don't what?"

"You don't let me finish my sentences," he went on like he repeated a fact. He was satisfied with seeing her react to what he said, however. They were answers enough.

"I wasn't lying, though," she admitted. Half-admitted. Tristan's eyes were to her. "When I said that I like your hair. And your eyes."

This time he smiled, in thanks. Then he did something she didn't expect: Tristan walked past her.

Her voice sounded small.

"Tristan?"

Tristan didn't stop walking. "Yeah?"

"Wait."

He wanted to. But he couldn't. "Got to keep a princess safe, haven't I? Wouldn't want witches

"…I do like you."

He stopped. He turned, only to have Kiko hook her arm with his, dragging him onward.

"Changed your mind about something?" he inquired, pleased.

"A thing or two," she chirped, cozying up to him. "One, that we're leaving this clearing. Two, that I'm asking Professor Dovey to help me bake cake. Valentine's is just around the corner."

Tristan craned his neck to his right, avoiding her playfully. "You think you have a chance with me?"

"I'm honestly not counting on it," said Kiko bluntly, "She's all Teddy anyway, so it won't be long before you come back running to me."

"Ouch. Now that hurt." Tristan feigned having a heart attack.

"Not as much when you told me you liked Beatrix," she pointed out.

"That was telling the truth, it wasn't supposed to hurt."

"Yes. It. Does."

"I'm telling the truth to you now, then. If you don't keep quiet the witches'll roast you alive."

**__****;;,;;,;;,;;.****;;,;;,;;,;;**

_Still, they got separated not ten minutes after. It actually pays to _NOT _let go of a prince's hand just to see how a chipmunk cracks a nut open. I suspect they'll have to figure out why Agatha helped them in the first place later than sooner. Then again, nobody's recognizable as a cat. I do wonder when that girl plans to tell them.  
_

**I know. Not my best, yet not my worst, either: But HEY! Tristan and Kiko have a place in this fanfic, too! I'm sorry, it's just this popped in my head: If anybody else were in this situation it would've made them look a bit unrealistic, too—so now you're thinking, "Why put Triko in it if it's that boring?" I had an idea for /Flowers/ but I had to cross it out. (It's too angsty.) I wanted to use the forest as a background. Its overall serenity just screams romance, no? Except that it's home to a few man-eating sloths or two, though it's okay, so long as the students succeed in hurting each other enough to get disqualified from the completely adult-supervised and safe game that judges that whoever's hurt the least or survived everything by sunrise the valedictorian of the batch and was rumored to be the same cause of death of a few students in the past.**

**The amount of sarcasm in the last sentence staggers me.**

**Anyway~Don't be confused. This chapter was something like meant to be Tedragatha, and then transformed into Triko, and was NOT a Hunger Games fanfic. I noticed the similarities, too—setting, running, nostalgic stuff and such—but that does not make it any MORE of a KatnissPeeta fluff.**

**So I was reading SGE again, and I was, "Tristan's a pretty good character. Who else could imitate somebody else's sword-fighting skills, anyway?" And he promised too much for me, so I had to hook him up with Kiko, who did remind me of a friend of mine haha (CURSE THE INEFFECTIVENESS OF ONOMATOPOIEA AS A DISPLAY OF HUMOROUS EXPRESSION THAN THE OTHERWISE POPULAR BUT UNTRUE 'lol')**

**I read the reviews. Laughed. Then read them again. The last one made me slap myself in the thigh to keep from rolling on the floor. Yes, I'm an asshole, and probably am the douchiest author ever to grace the earth. That and I have this annoying thing called **school**. Summer over here lasts 2 MONTHS, and covers most of April and May. We start school when some of YOU start summer. I actually had to multi-task this and my Economics project.**

**This was originally /Flowers/ 2, then I was like, "This doesn't even have flowers **_**in **_**it." And thus, /Walk in the Woods/ But I think next chapter'll be /Flowers/ I'll make a Humor chapter and an Angst one of it. You could do a lotta romantic stuff with flowers.**

**Personally, I like to keep Tristan blunt and Kiko talkative: They're their signature personalities to me now XD**


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